Michael and Selene were in a ramshackle apartment outside L.A. Well, on the outside it was ramshackle, but inside her personal safe house. Selene'd modified it two decades ago stocking it with whatever she would need if she wanted to escape the ongoing politics one can so easily become ensnared in.

Michael and her had been here been here for two weeks after escaping the ruins of Selene's father's prison. Currently she had yet to find more blood for the two of us. Michael went out during the day trying to find a butcher with a fresh amount on hand ; none did. Funny how things are today; when I was a child I remember the local butcher selling it by the gallon, for the many families who had blood sausage regularly Selene thought. But he had yet to find any and that was worrying Michael.

Especially with my new-found appetite. she thought

"Selene, are you alright?," Michael asks, concerned. Why he cares about the creature who took away his humanity I have no idea. By all rights he should hate me, because of me he is stuck in this goddamn war. And yet, he doesn't. I can't help but to be amazed.

"Selene." she rolls over in bed and feigns sleep. Hearing Michael get up and leave the room. she shakes her head and follows him into our kitchen. It's rather dusty in here and it's no wonder why; neither of us eat so there is no need for it. The only appliance still in working condition is the refrigerator, brand new.

"Michael." she whispered, "I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"How? How can't I?" he grimaces " You're not fine I've been feeding twice a day, and you barely get out of bed. It's not healthy. That's why I'm worried." he slowly walks up to me and wraps his arms around me. Feeling nauseous, Selene pulls away and runs to the bathroom; Michael follows, concerned.

She throws up into the toilet, Michael puling her hair out of her face. "I think we need to see a doctor."

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